Page 86 of Fixation
I click the button, and a soft beep signals it’s ready.
We stare at each other. I drag my fingers in and out of her pussy to help her relax.
“Good girl.” I nudge the thermometer into her ass. Out and in, helping her get used to it. And stop.
Then I rub her pussy, gently.
“Yes. Yes, yes, and—no,” she cries out, coming for me, her whole body arching off the bed. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”
“I bet you do.” The thermometer goes an inch deeper, beeping when it’s done.
Just in time for Harper to be done riding her orgasm.
“101.” I remove the thermometer, marveling at her labored breath. At the proof that I’ve helped her, right there, on the digital screen. “Are you grateful yet?”
A few beats pass while she considers it. Embarrassment washes over her naked body, her skin prickling as I stare her down.
“I’m doing better?” she asks eventually. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I climb down the bed, not bothering to adjust my cock. The thermometer goes into the trash can. I have a few new ones upstairs. “You’re such a good girl. Doing so well.”
She closes her eyes, protecting herself from her feelings.
From me.
I won’t allow that.
I go over there, gripping her chin hard enough that she opens them. “Thanks to me. Repeat that.”
She hesitates, and then, “Thanks to you.”
“That’s better.” I smooth my thumb over her jaw. “That’s fucking better.”
15
HARPER
That rough, impersonal touch I’ve learned to expect right before I open my eyes is there. His hand or mouth on my throat. On my shoulder. On every part of me, really.
My kidnapper.
A soft smile threatens to break through before I catch myself.
Absolutely not.
What the hell am I thinking? Smiling at him?
Not me. I relax my, hiding my foolish satisfaction.
Dr. Maguire doesn’t deserve my smiles. He doesn’t deserve my gratitude.
He doesn’t deserve my body.
Rationally, I know he doesn’t.
My heart pleads otherwise.
My heart acknowledges what my deranged kidnapper has done for me over the past three days. I’ve been counting them. All threeGood morning.
